Unreciprocated Love and Loss

I was the one who took care of my grandpa when everyone else slowly disappeared. I drove him to doctor’s

appointments, picked up his groceries, and sat with him in the evenings when the house felt

too quiet for him. When he got sick, I rearranged my life without thinking twice.

I honestly believed that being there mattered. Not for money—just because he was my

grandpa. When he passed away, I was heartbroken but also strangely calm.

I thought at least I’d done right by him. That feeling didn’t last.

At the will reading, I sat alone at the end of the table, listening as names were called and

assets were handed out. The house. The savings. Personal items that